How Not to Bake a Birthday Cake
by Little Patch of Heaven
Summary: No one had ever celebrated the Once-ler's birthday before; not once. But this year, thanks to a forest full of animals and a slightly annoying guardian of the trees, things will be different.


_The first (of hopefully many to come) fanfictions for The Lorax I offer up._

_To be honest, I didn't love the movie. The animation was amazing - some of the details included are just incredible - but the entire storyline for Ted just wasn't good. It seemed too fake, too unbelievable, and too riddled with plot wholes. But the character the Once-ler has so much potential and so much to work with, and I really enjoyed his entire story-arc. I love that they included a backstory for him, and I really enjoyed the odd love-hate-friendship that he and the Lorax have._

_I realized yesterday that it was the Once-ler's birthday (according to the fan-base, at least) but had just returned home from a seventeen hour bus ride and was far too exhausted to come up with anything, so this is a late (and slightly rushed) submission._

_Quick notes:_  
_- I still don't have a good grasp on the Lorax's accent or how he speaks, so it's a little off_  
_- someone said the fat barbaloot's name is Lou so I'm going with it; it's cute_

_Please review!_

* * *

"I thought only human females spent this much time getting ready."

The Once-ler paused in fluffing his hair and turned to scowl at the furry orange guardian invading his bathroom. "I'll have you know that presentation is essential in a successful sales pitch," he insisted with a huff, running his fingers through his thick bangs.

The Lorax made a "hmmming" sound that sounded highly unconvinced. "If you haven't sold one of your thneed things by now I doubt the hair is going to change anything."

"Would you -" the Once-ler exclaimed, spinning to face him again. "Why are you in here anyway? Don't you have a forest to protect and trees to speak to or something?"

"I speak **for** the trees, Beanpole," the Lorax explained in a slow voice. "Not **to** them."

"That still doesn't explain why you're here. Get out. Shoo." The Once-ler - and his insistent pointing towards the door - was ignored; the Lorax crossed his arms over his furry chest and leaned against the bathroom doorframe, face smug and eyebrows raised as if to ask how the Once-ler planned to make him leave. "You know what?" the Once-ler exclaimed finally with a dramatic sigh. "I don't have time for you today. The early bird gets the worm and all that, you know?"

With one final brush of his bangs - and a few quick poses in the mirror - the Once-ler gave his reflection a satisfied nod and left the bathroom. (Purposely pushing the Lorax over as he did so, ignoring the grumbled insults flung his way as he left.)

The sight of his room caused a pained groan - once again, the place was in chaos, an absolute disaster: the results of his home becoming a new resting place for various woodland creatures that very clearly did not belong indoors; feathers were flung everywhere, Barbaloot fur clung to bed sheets and carpets, and there were puddle trails dancing around in circles courtesy of the Humming Fish.

The Once-ler squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand down his face, pulling at the skin. "I don't have time to deal with all this," he told himself. Peeking open an eye, he shuddered, his shoulders sagging further. Years of cleaning up for the rest of his family had left him with an intense abhorrence of messes; he couldn't stand it when things were out of place or dirtied in anyway, and the animals constantly coming and going through his house were unfortunately defiant to his pleas of cleanliness.

He really didn't have time; walking to town took at least an hour, even with Melvin, and it was already nearly noon. But still - that mess. "I'll clean up when I get home," he assured himself finally, before grabbing his vest up off the bed, sighing loudly when he saw the brown fur decorating it. A short search informed him that the lint roller would not be of any use - apparently Lou had thought it was food.

"Oh great; this is just my luck," the Once-ler grumbled, throwing the useless tool in the trash. "Oh wait, don't do that!" The Once-ler rushed forward to grab Lou, who was attempting to remove the bad taste of the lint roller's sticky covering by gnawing on his pillow. After grabbing the large Barbaloot, he led him to the kitchen and sat him down at the table before heading to retrieve his secret stash of marshmallows.

The realization that Lou - and the two Humming Fish playing in his sink - was watching him closely dawned on him and he halted mid-step, whipping back around to level the Barbarloot with a stern look. "Close your eyes, he ordered before he glanced at the fish as well; they threw their fins over each other's faces immediately. "No looking, alright?" The three animals nodded, paws and fins securely over eyes; even so, the Once-ler eyed them distrustfully as he edged towards his highest cupboard.

Just as they had no concern for the state of his house, the animals had taken to raiding his food whenever they pleased, which left the Once-ler spending far more money and trips for groceries than he would have liked; many a day he had come home from an unsuccessful sales day to find his cupboards empty, the animals nowhere in sight, and his empty stomach growling loudly in protest.

In order to avoid the trudge back to town that would follow, he had began hiding away some of his food in the highest cupboard; it was hard for even him to reach and he hoped that was enough to keep anything hidden in there out of the paws, fins, and wings of his unwanted house guests.

With one look back at the animals to make sure they still had their eyes fully covered, the Once-ler stretched up onto his tip-toes and snagged a few marshmallows out of the hideaway. Shutting the cupboard firmly, he hurried back to the animals. "Alright, you can look now," he said, tossing a marshmallow to each of them.

While the animals busied themselves with the food, the Once-ler scrambled to retrieve his hat and guitar before rushing out of the house. A moment later, he ran back in, much to the amusement of the watching Lorax. The Once-ler blushed slightly, trying to hide it with a scowl towards the smirking guardian. "Forgot this," he mumbled, grabbing his thneed - and attempting to overlook the obvious fur stuck to it, brown and orange alike.

The Lorax shook his head, sighing. "Why don't you just forget it, Kid? You've been trying for too long; if it hasn't caught on now, it won't, end of story. Stop wasting your time."

The Once-ler bristled with anger; he stood to his full height, puffing out his chest and sticking his hands on his hips in defiance. "I'm not wasting my time! The thneed is revolutionary. It's genius. And it's so advanced it'll take a little while for people to realize the absolute necessity of it." The Lorax rolled his eyes and the Once-ler deflated silently, mouth falling into a stubborn pout.

"And I haven't been trying that long," he insisted, glancing towards the x-covered calendar nailed to one of his walls. Two months wasn't that long - right?

The Lorax followed his gaze, snorting. "No, not long," he mocked, earning another glare from the human. Still studying the calendar, the Lorax's eyebrows furrowed in confusion; the Once-ler, oblivious, began to head towards the door once more. "Hey, wait up, Beanpole."

With a heavy sigh, the Once-ler halted, his hand on the doorknob. "What?" he growled.

"Why's today circled on your calendar?"

The annoyance on the Once-ler's face was replaced with confusion. "What?" he asked, blinking at the calendar. "Oh; I guess today's my birthday," he explained with a nonchalant shrug, turning to leave.

"Your birthday?" the Lorax asked, surprised.

"Yup," the Once-ler said, ducking out of the house and heading towards Melvin - who looked extremely annoyed to be once again making the trek towards town and back. The Once-ler swung his guitar over his shoulder and checked the sign hanging on his mule, making sure it was tight and secure and wouldn't fall off halfway through the trip.

"Hey, wait!" The Lorax hurried up next to him, staring up at him with narrowed eyebrows. "Why aren't you happier? I thought humans got all excited on their birthdays. Don't they have floating colorful things or something?"

"Alright, first off, those are called balloons. And secondly, I am happy," the Once-ler said simply, shrugging. "I'd be more happy if I managed to sell my thneed today, though."

"But don't humans usually celebrate or something?" the Lorax pressed, obviously confused.

"Sure, I suppose some do." The Once-ler paused and looked down at the forest guardian, eyeing him. "Look," he said. "Birthdays just aren't a big deal to me, okay? They never have been. Don't worry about it."

And with that, he climbed onto Melvin's back and headed towards town.

* * *

The day started off well enough - sure no one had bought a thneed or even appeared interested, but he had gone almost an hour without an onslaught of tomatoes; so a good day, all things considered. Mostly he was just ignored as the townspeople passed by him as they carried out their busy schedules, but the lack of flying fruit and angry shouting was enough to make the Once-ler's spirits soar. Maybe today really would be great; happy birthday to him!

Of course, as he had come to learn in life, all good things ended - and usually sooner rather than later. Halfway through his second hour of singing, dancing, and sales-pitching, a crowd gathered before him and a familiar red fruit came flying at his face; he ducked just in time for it to sail harmlessly over his head.

The second time he was not so lucky. Attention still caught on the first tomato as it crashed into the pavement behind him, he missed the second one flying for his face and was hit right in the cheek with it. He whirled around, guitar hanging limply on it's strap as he brought his hands up to shield his face.

"GO HOME!" he heard a man shout. "We don't want you or your worthless thneed here!" Various others in the crowd shouted their agreement, a few more tomatoes landed on him, and finally, the crowd dispersed, leaving him alone.

The Once-ler stared at the ground, biting his lower lip, before hanging his head in defeat and stepping down from the pagoda he had been performing in. He had planned to stay for a few more hours but obviously he wasn't going to sell anything today - the crowd had had its fill.

As he made his way over to where Melvin was tied, he found an older man who was bent over with age in his path. The Once-ler moved to step out of the man's way, but the old man grabbed his arm with a firm grip and turned the young man towards him, leveling him with a stern look. "He was right; go home, kid. Your invention is a flop; quit while you're ahead, boy."

And with that said, the man let go of the Once-ler and hurried off down the path, leaving the young man to stare at him as he walked away.

"A flop?" the Once-ler questioned softly, looking down at the colorful thneed in his hands. "W-worthless?" he stammered, his voice catching in his throat. As he watched, the thneed in his hands began to tremble - or maybe the hands holding it began to tremble. "I - it's not -" he sucked in a deep breath, trying to fight back the sob threatening to escape.

He would not cry. Business men had to face opposition and uninterested audiences all the time; he had been fully prepared for that when he left home - he was stronger than this. **He would not cry.**

But the sob building in his chest was apparently stronger than his will power; it bubbled up behind his thinly stretched lips, threatening to burst. Just as it seemed it would break free, something nudged him roughly in his back and the sob became a gasp of surprise.

The Once-ler spun around, thneed clutched tight to his chest, to come face to face with a hairy brown nose. "Melvin," he murmered quietly, ignoring the cracks in his voice and hoping desperately that Melvin didn't notice them.

The mule had a kind look in his eyes - the sort of knowing sparkle that had always convinced the Once-ler that the mule was far smarter than his family had given him credit for; despite his mother and aunt's insistence, he had never been able to shake the feeling that Melvin simply **understood**.

Melvin bumped his nose up against the Once-ler's chest gently and nickered softly into the fabric of his vest. The sob returned full force, clogging up the Once-ler's throat. He leapt forward, throwing his arms around the mule's wide neck in a tight hug, burying his face into Melvin's side. He could feel his eyes tearing up and blinked rapidly into Melvin's coarse hair to dry them.

"Business always has these sort of bumps," the Once-ler said softly as Melvin nuzzled his shoulder. A smile tugged the corners of his lips us as he pulled away from the mule to look at him. The Once-ler coughed to clear his throat before continuing. "But we'll show them, yeah? we're no quitters, not sir. I mean -" he held up the thneed in front of Melvin's face, shaking it slightly to emphasize it. "We've got a product the whole world needs!" he exclaimed triumphantly, holding the thneed high in the air as a wide grin stretched across his face.

The Once-ler stood there for a moment, thneed held high, staring up at it, before the smile started to fall and a determined look took over his features. "We'll show them," he repeated with more conviction, trying to convince himself more than the patiently listening mule before him. "I'm not - " he cut off, shaking his head slightly to derail that train of thought. "**It**, I mean," he insisted. "**It's** not's worthless."

* * *

"So, I was wondering if maybe Truffula trees change color in fall. You know, like the trees back home did? I mean, not that we really had many trees back home, but the few that we did changed colors in the fall. And it would be great if they did because right now I can really only make orange, pink, and yellow thneeds but it'd be nice to make other colors, right?"

Melvin rolled his eyes.

"And it would probably broaden the consumer range if I offered colors like green and blue, so I -" The Once-ler came to a sudden halt, Melvin bumping into his backside. He stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at his tent. Or more accurately at the thick black smoke spilling from the open windows.

'"Is that - ?" he mumbled, frozen still with shock, unable to bring himself to act. Melvin snorted loudly, kicking him in the side; he stumbled, snapping out of his daze. With a cry, he abandoned his guitar on the ground and dashed towards the burning tent, nearly tripping himself with his own legs in his hurry to reach it.

After throwing open the front door, the Once-ler stood and stared through the doorway in shock. The tent was full of animals, all in a flurry of movement. Swamme-swans flapped the air, squawking and shedding fleathers; Humming Fish ran to and from the sink, carrying fin-fills of water to throw on the flames; Barbaloots panicked, rushing through the open door and nearly toppling the Once-ler as he stood there, gaping.

And the Lorax - he was at the center of it all, standing before a large fire that covered the Once-ler's stove. He was attempting to dose the flames with some sort of rag, but the fire raged on despite his attempts and seemed to grow steadily larger, threatening to light the walls and ceiling of the house if the Once-ler didn't do something.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" he screamed, pushing at panicked animals as he fought his way into the house. He stumbled through the smoke - coughing and hacking as he did - and towards the sink; once there, he reached into the cupboard under it and produced a gleaming red fire extinguisher.

Aiming it at the raging fire, he pushed the button. Within minutes the fire was out and half of his house was covered in a thick layer of white foam. The Once-ler held the empty fire extinguisher limply in his hands; now that the threat of immediate danger was gone, he could do nothing but gape at the sight of his house.

Along with the usual feathers and fur, black scorch marks now lined the walls around the stove and crawled up to the ceiling; foam dripped from the stove and onto the floor below; the smell of smoke hung everywhere, nearly overwhelming. A Swamme-swan flying through the air gave a squawk of relief and landed on the Once-ler's head, roosting in his back hair.

And just like that, he snapped. With an enraged scream he threw the fire extinguisher as hard as he could; it bounced off the stove with a metallic clang. The Swamme-swan on his head let out a noise of surprise and once more took to the air, and the Once-ler swatted at it angrily until it flew out the open window. A few of the animals peeked through the windows and doorway curiously at his yell and he glared at them.

"OUT! OUT! OUT!" he screeched, waving his arms wildly. "EVERYBODY OUT OF MY HOUSE!" With startled gasps, growls, and squawks, the animals took off. The Lorax - covered head to foot in dripping, white foam - dropped the rag he had been using to beat at the flames. The Once-ler watched it drop to the ground; anger shot through him when he realized that it was his apron, nearly charred beyond recognition.

"YOU!" he yelled, shoving the Lorax in the chest with his finger. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Hey, hey, hey," the Lorax said, throwing up his hands in front of him. "Calm down, Kid."

"Calm down? You nearly burned my house down! I will not calm down!"

"Look," the Lorax huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. (And causing more foam to drip onto the floor with the movement.) "We were just trying to cook something like we've seen you do it. It was an accident. We're sorry."

"Accident?" the Once-ler snarled, leaning down to stare the Lorax in the eye. "I don't care! The fact is that if I had gotten back a few minutes later, I wouldn't have had a house! I told you all to stay out and stop messing with my stuff! This is my house! **MY** HOUSE! And I want you all to stay far, far away from it!"

The Lorax's eyes narrowed, his mustache quivering with anger. "I said we're sorry," he growled, learning up into the Once-ler's face on his tip-toes.

The Once-ler opened his mouth to begin shouting again when a small tug came from his pant leg. He whipped his head around to yell at the animal who had wandered back into the house; when he saw Pipsqueak standing there, paw still gripped on his pant leg and eyes wide with fear, the scream caught in his throat. The foam covering the floor was nearly higher than the little Barbaloot; it threatened to cover him completely, leaving only his head to poke out of it.

The tension left the Once-ler's shoulders as the anger fled from him; he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself down. After a few deep breaths, he grabbed the foam-covered Barbaloot into his arms and stood up, cradling Pipsqueak against his chest. The realization that the animals had all been much closer to the fire than was safe suddenly hit him, and the Once-ler looked down at the little Barbaloot in concern. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, checking the little cub over.

Pipsqueak's ears perked up at the tone change, a smile forming on his furry face. With a happy growl, he placed his sudsy paws up against the Once-ler's shoulders and leaned in close to his face, nodding happily.

The Once-ler nodded, sighing. "That's good." He stepped closer to the window and leaned his head out. "Are you all alright?" he called. After a moment of silence, animal heads began popping up from the water, out from the trees, and from behind bushes, all staring at him warily as if afraid he would leap into anger once more. "I said you alright?" he called impatiently, trying to stay calm. Through nodding, growling, and squawking, the animals assured him they were.

"That's good," he said again half-heartedly as he turned back to look at the mess his house had become.

The three in the house stared at the ruined stove in thick awkward silence. Finally, the Lorax coughed lightly to grab the Once-ler's attention. "We were trying to make you a cake," he explained gruffly, looking at everything but the human beside him.

The Once-ler glanced back at the stove, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, is that what that thing is?" he asked monotonously as he pointed at a blackened pile of _**something**_ lying on the stove top without a pan. The Once-ler thought he could see the remains of a paper plate and napkin in there somewhere and decided he had probably located the source of the fire; and after looking a bit longer he decided he didn't want to know exactly what all was shoved in there - he thought he could see some grass.

After another moment of silence, the Lorax's statement dawned on him. He blinked in surprise, turning to regard the Lorax with confusion. "You were making me a cake?" he asked with obvious disbelief. The animals were slowly creeping back into the house and coming to stare through the window.

"Yeah," the Lorax huffed, staring at his feet with his arms still crossed. "Isn't that what humans do on birthdays?"

The Once-ler gaped, opening and closing his mouth rapidly so that he resembled a Humming Fish. "I - I - you - you all were -" he stuttered, staring around the house at the animals gathered there. A lump formed in his throat and he chocked on it, breathing quickly and shallowly. "You were making **me** a birthday cake?" he gasped out in a chocked whisper.

He watched the animals lean towards him with concern and the Lorax's - who was finally looking at him - eyes widen. Pipsqueak reached up a paw to his face, whimpering. The Once-ler raised a hand up to his face to find what they were all staring at, and pulled it back to find the fingers wet.

He was crying.

The Lorax leapt forwards, waving his arms frantically. "Hey, now! Don't cry, Beanpole; I told you, we didn't mean to burn your stove-thing!" The orange guardian appeared both panicked and clueless, obviously at a lost for how to react.

The Once-ler shook his head, a weird mix of laughs and sobs pouring free from his mouth. He realized that he was trembling and quickly placed Pipsqueak on the kitchen table, leaning against it to keep himself upright. "I'm just - " A sob interrupted him and he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself; he wiped the back of his hand across his wet cheeks and tried to clear the tears away.

"No one's ever made a cake for my birthday before," he admitted in a whisper once he had composed himself. Admitting this - and watching the Lorax become more shocked than before - made him completely lose the control he had, and he succumbed to tears and sobs once again, scrubbing at his eyes with a smile on his face. "No one's ever celebrated my birthday."

Pipsqueak reached up a paw and the Once-ler bent down to hug him tightly, laughing. He had never felt this way before - wanted, appreciated. Someone had taken the time and effort to (attempt to) make a birthday cake for him - for **him**, the failure, the screw-up, the worthless son. He could hardly believe it was true - maybe it was a dream; maybe it was a joke, and the Lorax was suddenly going to laugh and say _"just kidding!"_

But no laugh came, and the Once-ler held Pipsqueak tighter to his chest to assure himself he was awake and this was completely 100% real.

Sure they had messed up, and yes his house was a wreck and he was going to have to make sure the stove still worked fine and no, he didn't know how he was going to scrape off the supposed "birthday cake" or clean up all the foam - but they had tried; all of them had tried to make him a surprise cake while he was gone - even though they didn't know how - because they wanted him to have a cake on his birthday.

_Someone had made him a birthday cake._

_Someone __**cared**__ about him._

"Thank you," he murmured into Pipsqueak's fur. "Thank you." The Once-ler released the little Barbaloot and looked around at all the animals. With a wide grin, he held his arms open wide. "Hugs for everybody!" he yelled, before he was bowled over by a rush of animals, all leaping at him to hug him.

He fell back into the pile of Swamme-swans, Humming Fish, and Barbaloots laughing loudly. Lifting his head from the pile he spotted the Lorax, still dripping foam from his mustache and looking uncomfortable. "Hey, Moustache!" he shouted, grinning. "You coming?"

The Lorax snorted, walking forwards until he stood at the edge of the pile. "It was the animals' idea, Beanpole. Don't go thinking I like you or anything." But the Once-ler could see the smile beneath the foam-covered moustache, and he only opened his arms wider with a grin.

The Lorax gave him a quick hug before stepping back again, smiling down at them while the animals all cuddled up close to the human that had someone managed to become their friend. For of one of the first times in his life, the Once-ler felt truly wanted. (Perhaps even _loved_, but that was a bit too much to hope for and he kept the thought for another day.)

So what if his thneed hadn't sold that day - this was the best birthday he had ever had.


End file.
